When the Church stood firm against plan to steer voters from secret ballots

Cardinal Otunga, Bishop John Ngenga and Bishop Ndingi Mwana A'nzeki during a press conference in November 1974. [File, Standard]

In the recent times, concern has been raised that the Kenyan Church and the State are so embedded to an extent it is hard to tell where one ends and the other begins. The healthy red line between them is blurred.

Writing in this newspaper a while back, Bishop David Oginde of CITAM Church and now chair of the Ethics and Anti-Corruption Commission was at a loss for words to describe the situation. Is it State capture of the Church or Church capture of the State, he mused.

Specifically, it came out during last year's election campaigns when a section of the Church openly identified with one political formation with subtle messaging that the rival team was anti-Church and anti-God. The perception was firmed when men and women of the cloth turned up at the Bomas presidential vote tallying centre on the day the winner was announced; a gesture that was interpreted as endorsement of the results and quiet message that the declared winner was the Church's favourite all along.

Observers were quick to point out that it wasn't the wise thing to do for the clergy in a country where the presidential vote is too close to call. The perception of the Church leaning to one side or the other has likely effect of dividing their congregations down the middle, an unfortunate thing to obtain in the House of God.

If today the Church is so close to those in power to a point some zealots wanted a church built inside State House, it wasn't the case in the past. There was a time when the Church and the State kept to their separate lanes even as they cooperated on matters of public good like provision of health, education and other social amenities.

Though not hostile to the other, each kept their independence and openly spoke when they saw the other going astray.

No to queuing!

Such happened 35 years ago in August 1988 when the Church stuck its neck out and said no to intended scrapping of secret ballot in the elections. In a stroke of strange genius, the government had declared it would abolish secret balloting and replace it with mlolongo (queue-voting). The explanation was that the latter was more transparent as voters would line up behind a candidate of their choice, be counted in broad daylight and the results declared on the spot. Cost factor was also cited as there would be no spending on ballot papers, secure boxes and other materials that go with secret balloting.

For soundbites, the supposed innovation was novel and welcome. But the Kanu government had a hidden agenda. The devil was in the logistics of it. It happened to be the days of one-party rule when State honchos were hellbent on having an unchallenged grip on the country's levers of power. And what a better shortcut to that than having an electoral system that could be manipulated to ensure only the hand-picked got 'elected'.

Queue-voting came in handy because State agents could intimidate citizens to vote in a certain way as voting was in the open unlike secret ballot where there is no way of knowing how one voted. Vote by queue also facilitated easy rigging of elections as it left behind no paper trail that could be presented in a petition to challenge the outcome. Once the counting was done and the queue dispersed, that was all.

Week of long knives

Out of the blue in the last week of August 1988, the ruling party endorsed the queuing system and there would be no debate about it.

To test the waters, then notorious Kanu pied-piper and Mombasa branch chairman Shariff Nassir was instructed to declare in the media that queuing system would be implemented - to use his exact words - mpende msipende! (Like it or not!)

The Church's response was fast and furious. The umbrella National Council of Churches of Kenya (NCCK) announced it would request its member churches to advise their congregants not to participate in elections where vote was through queuing. The Kenya Catholic Episcopal Conference (nowadays called the Kenya Conference of Catholic Bishops) followed suit and said no to queue-voting. The Supreme Council of Kenya Muslims too spoke and clarified that what Nassir - a Muslim - had said was his personal view and not that of Muslims in the country.

Respective churches and individual clergy came out to reinforce the collective stand by their umbrella organisations.

Anglican Bishop of Eldoret Alexander Muge cautioned Kanu against imposing its will on citizens and asserted a national referendum on the issue was the way to go. The Catholic Bishop of Nakuru Ndingi Mwana a'Nzeki was emphatic that scrapping the secret ballot would take away sanctity of the vote and was a threat to Kenya's democracy.

Elsewhere, the Presbyterian Church of East Africa and the Methodist Church separately stated queue-voting was undesirable and divisive.

The die was cast. The Christians estimated to be over 70 per cent of the population and their Muslim brethren counting at about 20 per cent had said no. And in all probability, the silent 10 per cent were opposed to queue-voting. Like the biblical King of Babylon, Kanu honchos read the writing on the wall loud and clear. Overnight, talk about queue-voting vanished as mysteriously as it had come.

No to illegal 'tea'

It wasn't the first time for the Church to stand up and take a stand in a moment of national crisis.

In July 1969, Cabinet minister Tom Mboya was gunned down in a Nairobi street in broad day light. All indications were that it was an assassination sanctioned from high places. On interrogation, the man who pulled the trigger is said to have asked: "Why me? Why not ask the big man?"

Mboya's murder put the country in a state of ferment. Angry mobs stoned President Jomo Kenyatta's motorcade showed up for requiem mass at the Holy Family Basilica. In Luo Nyanza, effigies of the President were torched in street bonfires and traders forced to remove portraits of the President hanging in their premises.

Then came reports of secret mass oaths in Mt Kenya region. Citizens were forced to swear they would defend the presidency from perceived enemies and that the presidential flag shall never go beyond River Chania to leave the House of Mumbi.

Misguided selfish politicians from Mt Kenya region attempted to create a false narrative that the rest of the country was up in arms against the region, hence need for an oath of unity to defend the House of Mumbi. The illegal oaths were disguised as tea sessions and called 'chai wa muthee' (the old man's tea).

Leadership of the Church took a stand. They denounced the oaths which they described as "dangerous and a path to destruction of our beloved nation." They called on their congregations to stand firm and refuse to take the oaths even at gunpoint.

Reports emerged about abductions of Christians in Mt Kenya region who were tortured until they gave in to the oaths. Those who firmly said no were executed in cold blood with law enforcement officers turning a blind eye. A PCEA clergyman in Kikuyu township and his wife who declined to be oathed were found murdered and their bodies dumped on the Nairobi-Nakuru highway.

Requests by the Church leadership to have audience with Kenyatta to discuss the crisis were declined.

The Church took the scorched-earth option. They called for street demonstrations to condemn illegal oathings and the divisive conduct of the country's leadership. Apparently, then as now, protesting in the streets is the only language those in power seem to understand. The illegal oathings stopped. Once again, the Church had stood firm and said no, bringing to a halt what was not right.